The following day Sage exited the building. She swung her bag over her shoulder and made her way home.
On her way she not only carried George and Dingo's accounts now but Jon and Poll's as well. "Sage!" She suddenly heard a voice call. She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to see Isabel who was exiting the building.
"Thank you!" She ran out and embraced her. "You saved my life!" She exclaimed.
"Not your life, just your job," she clarified in a bored tone.
"Still!" She said removing herself from the Munter.
"Why did you do it?" She asked the million dollar question with her brown eyes wide.
"If I had just stood by, it wouldn't have made me any better than you," she said darkly before turning and making her way home. "I'm sorry!" She called out after the brunette who only kept walking on her way home.
"Mum! I'm home!" She called once she arrived home, but surprisingly her mother wasn't home. "Odd..." she said to herself.
She made way to the living room and began to play an old Sinatra record. At the same time, the papers hanging down her shoulder weighted down with burden. She starred at the neat little paper where Poll had written his phone number and address.
She decided to phone him.
She nervously played with the phone cord as she called, it was then that a gruff voice, much too rough to be Poll's picked up in the other line. "Hello?" The voice said.
"Hello?" She retorted. "Hi- good evening is Poll there?"
Suddenly a dead tone ringing greeted her ears. She looked at the phone confused. She called again thinking that the call was lost, but nothing.
Deciding to get over with her day she once again dressed in her coat, matching gloves and scarf and made way to Poll's house. Before she did the phone rang. It could only be him.
"Yes Poll?" She picked up on the second ring.
"Poll?" It was a woman's voice. "Why is Poll phoning you?" She asked.
"Isabel..." she greeted curtly. "Never the mind, Sage, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come over? So that we could go over some accounting questions?" Without any hesitation she hung up the phone. She had already done enough for that woman.
That's when she left to Poll's home which strangely wasn't too far away. Once she arrived, she looked down at the note, it was the right address.
It was a simple red brick house with a luscious green garden. Approaching the front door she rang the doorbell. The door opened and an older man opened the door. He visible cringed when he saw Sage and with a groaning noise slammed it on her face.
"Hey!" She protested banging on the door. This was the right address, she was certain.
"I'll tell lol you something girly, you're not the first or the last to come by today, but you really are the ugliest one!" The grouchy man said in a rough voice.
"I'm here to see Poll!" She shouted.
"Oh, I know. You're the one that's been ringing incessantly! And oh don't event get me started-" she could hear him stepping away.
"I work for Briant Epstone!" She shouted. "Poll asked me to come deliver some papers," she explained breathlessly. The bald man opened the door wide this time and eyed her curiously with mistrusting eyes. "If you don't believe me, here," she handed him a note. "It's his handwriting." It was.
Moving aside like a troll block an entrance the older man moved and allowed her in. The house which smelled like new. She figured he probably had just moved here.
Leading her to the living room he sat her down before heading to the kitchen.
He returned escorting two young girls out of the house.
"Ladies, thank you for cleaning my floor, dishes and shelves. I promise you, I'll ring you when Poll gets here. Buh-bye," he waved as they left.
They both called out a "Thank you Mr. Macartney" and left.
By the resemblance and attitude Sage could only figure that tie man was Poll's father.
"Sorry about that," he began as he clapped his hands off as if dusting them off.
"They are driving me absolutely insane! Ringing all day, breaking into my home. These two offered to clean, figured they might as well make them useful," he chuckled.
Sage sat uncomfortable in the new living room with her legs shut tight and her bag hugged in her arms nervously.
"Tea and biscuits?" He offered.
The woman uncomfortably sat with Jim Macartney, Poll's father, she wasn't sure what to say. Then again she had never been good at making conversation.
"You're not like the others," he said wisely as he sipped on some tea. "I know these things. If I may ask- why don't you shriek and sob like the others do with my son? Or lust after him like a rabbit in heat?"
Sage rudely spluttered some of the Tea she had been sipping back in the cup she had been drinking from. She put the cup down and cleared her throat.
"Well sir, I'm a professional you see? I work for a Briant Epstone and the rest of the band, that is, including your son. I'm his accountant." She explained.
"A working woman," he nodded impressed. "I was young once as well- so if you would just tell me the real reason," his tone changed to a bored one.
Mr. Macartney really didn't beat around the bush.
"Well," Sage took in a deep breath and let out an uneasy laughter.
"You said it yourself, I'm the ugliest girl that's come by the house all day long," she shrugged. "And yet- you don't allow that pessimistic opinion to defeat you. You really are different," he sipped some of his tea wisely.
"I'm a realistic person Mr. Macartney, I am well aware that your son or any other Beatle or man would be sent to a mad house if they even considered laying their eyes on me. I know that perhaps beauty isn't my affinity, but I'm pretty brilliant in other areas. Also at the end of the day they are just humans like you and me," she offered with a small smile.
He couldn't help but chuckle. "Well best watch out for Pollie, that's never stopped him before," he wiggled his arched eyebrows.
"Dad!" It was Poll. The voice came from upstairs. He came down from the stairs with his hair soaking wet. He was dressed in casual clothes and wearing his house slippers. His face was pink and he looked terribly embarrassed.
"What are you doing you twisted old man?" He protested as he joined them in the living room. He looked around swiftly for the fan girls. "Are they gone?" He said in a hushed tone.
"Oh, relax son. Yes, they are gone. These girls are starting to come in handy, they're cheaper than a maid!" He said with both his brows raised.
"They steal my underwear and socks dad!" Poll protested.
"You don't even live here!" The other retorted.
"Sorry that you got stuck here with my old man. I hope he didn't bore you to death," Poll apologized. "Bored her? Ms. O'Shea has proven to be one of the most pleasant conversation that I've had in weeks! All of your other girls are all brain dead 'where's Poll?' 'Can I see his pictures?' 'Poll this yadda, yadda,'" he rolled his eyes. "It's refreshing y have someone that doesn't want to talk about you all the time!"
Poll ran a hand through his hair nervously. "Yeah, remember that you were just going to bed?" Poll said through gritted teeth.
Mr. Macartney waved him up and made his way upstairs.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll leave you two kids at it."
Poll sighed and shook his head.
"Sorry about him, he gets lonely in the city. More so, now that I don't live with him." He sighed. "Oh, that's fine. My mother is the same," Sage nodded understanding.
"I'm remodeling my pad so I'm crashing with old Jim for the time being."
There was an awkward silence. Sage was unsure of how to proceed. She fidgeted with her thumbs as she eyed the door nervously.
"Some scotch?" She was caught off guard by Poll preparing himself a drink.
"N-No thanks," she answered warily, "I don't drink," she explained.
He raised his eyebrows surprised. "Try it then, it won't kill ya," he said with. A smile as he poured her a cold glass old fashioned scotch. She thanked him quietly.
Her mind was racing. She was looking at him. Poll had been nicknamed "the cute Beatle" by the obsessive group of groupies that stalked and followed the Beetles around. With his perfectly arched eyebrows, full lips, petite nose and bedroom eyes it was clear he was one of the most handsome Beetles if not the most.
Sage took a small drink from her scotch, she had seen people do this in flickers whenever they got nervous. She groaned as the bitter drink burned down her throat. She continued coughing violently.
"Hey easy there, it's not lemonade," Poll said after a chuckle. "Water?" He offered kindly. Through coughs she nodded. As soon as he was gone she swung her coat on and made a go for the door.
She was about to reach the doorknob when he caught her.
"Running away?" She could almost hear the smirk on his lips. Sage felt her face burning a bright shade of red. She turned and indeed saw him with a smug grin n his face. In his other hand he held the glass of water.
"It's late, it's getting dark. I best get going," she answered with a raspy throat.
"Nonsense!" He replied approaching her and hanging her the glass of water. He turned and began putting on his coat and scarf. "A lady should never walk home at night unescorted," he said picking up a set of car keys. "Come on, I'll drive you home."
"No. It's close by-" she protested but he simply pushed her out the door . Outside he ducked his damp hair from the November winter. "Poll!" She opposed. "I'll be fine, I swear. Nobody is going to talk or do anything to me. Even the street dogs won't pick a bone with me!"
"Inside," he simply said as he opened the car door for her. Without another choice she stepped inside. She sat inside of his nice car stiffly. She clenched her shaky hands. This was so innapropiate, nothing good could come out of this, she knew it. He clearly didn't like her, he couldn't like her. Not one boy had ever fancied her, and the one that had- well... let's just say it didn't work out.
He got in the drivers sit and turned to smile at the nervous girl sitting on the passengers seat. She returned him an awkward tight lipped smile. He set on the ignition and drove on. Sage gave him her address timidly.
Neither exchanged a word during the entire car ride.
"Music?" Poll said as he turned on the radio.
"Yes music!" She retorted louder than she intended. Her nerves jumping at every single movement or turn that he made. Finally they were outside of her house. The home was your stereotypical middle lower class British home. It wasn't a novel, but it was nothing too fancy.
"Thank you very much Poll, goodnight!" She said hurriedly as she opened the door. "Sage wait!" His hand reached for her arm holding her in place. She was afraid to look at him.
"I'll confess," he began. "I invited you home with an ulterior motive."
She looked at him with her eyes wide. For a moment she swore that her heart stopped. It wasn't possible. His grip rightened in the fabric of her coat. He looked st her terrified expression. "I actually wanted to offer you a job," he said shortly.
Sage felt as if all the weight that she had been carrying on her shoulders simply slipped and was gone. She let out a breath and her pose relaxed. Thank God.
Then again, she was right, it was impossible that anyone could develop feelings for her. "A job?" She responded.
"Yes, full time." He clarified. "It's nothing grand. You see, I know the band is only going to grow more. Beatle- what's the tellie calling it, Beatle-mania, is only picking up and I know that we're going to need all the help we can get. Specially with Briant with his hands full with the four of us. Point is, I know that perhaps you'd prefer a more intelectuales challenging job, since you do numbers and all but-"
"Poll! The point!" She said anxiously.
He looked at her for a moment and paused. His mother, may she Rest In Peace, had always taught Poll that the eye of a person are the windows to their soul. And ever since he had seen Sage's green ones, he knew that he had really seen her. He was stunned. From that moment on he began observing her. He saw what Sage was really like. He observed the way that the mousy girl would scurry about in the office almost as if she was hiding herself from others. The way that she would take Jon and Isabel's constant insults. He thought he had her pinned as simply an introverted person, and he wouldn't help but wonder who could've hurt her so much to become like this?
It was when she stood up for Isabel that really threw him off. He couldn't understand why she would do such a thing. He didn't know if to think of her in high esteems or as if just being really, really dumb. Well- because of this, he assume that she was a loyal person, a luxury that he hadn't been able to afford lately.
She was noble, intelligent, a hard worker and a complete wallflower. Even his girlfriends wouldn't be jealous if they saw him with her!
Poll knew that soon the size of their staff would double if not triple. He had to get his hands on her before George or Dingo got clever with him.
"Point is... Sage, you're a woman whom I don't have to pray to the Lord to throw some brains down from heaven. You're efficient-" he saw her dull expression.
"Right the point-" he mumbled to himself. "I want you to be my personal assistant," he finished.
She went mute, her mouth agape. She was absolutely speechless.
"I'll pay you handsomely, twice whatever it is that Briant is paying you."
It took her a moment to regain her composure. "I-I don't know what to say," she flabbergasted. "Poll, I'm flattered, I really am, but I'm over qualified. I studied accountability that's what I want to do with my life, numbers."
"Which is why I'm paying you more," he pressed.
"I'm sorry, but I can't." She said shaking her head, "I didn't kill my self to be number one in my class just to end up as- an assistant." She said lowly sounding disappointed. He let go of her arm and she excited the car.
Poll was star struck, had she just rejected his offer?
He rolled down the window as she rushed up the stairs.
"This is exactly why I need you!" He shouted after her. She froze in her steps and turned to face him in the cold night. Hands shoved deep inside of her pockets. She looked at him expecting him to continue. to her surprise he even got off his car and stepped towards her. She looked at his tall frame approaching her. He looked at her clearly, maybe he had been completely wrong about her.
He guessed there were simlply something's that money couldn't buy.
He opened his mouth but no sound came out, his brows furrowed. "Thanks for the ride," she mumbled before reaching her door.
"You are one of the few people that see and treat me- actually treat us. As actually human beings." He stopped for a moment before continuing.
"You don't put me or the others in a godly pedestal, or disgustingly throw yourself at us like the others. You know how to respect yourself, which makes you an even more valuable team asset." He licked his lips, "Please?" He begged, both of his eyebrows pulled together in pleading.
"Goodnight Poll," she simply said.